


Deep Into That Darkness Peering

by PoeticPsycho



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood and Torture, Castration, Drug Addiction, F/M, Graphic Description, Knife Play, Mind Manipulation, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Sexual Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violence, sadist, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 20:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12778419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeticPsycho/pseuds/PoeticPsycho
Summary: This story is based on the Skyrim Romance Mod 3.0 and its characters.While investigating a series of missing persons for the Jarl of Whiterun, the Dragonborn discovers a connection between those who have disappeared and a sex trafficker hiding in the mountains of Falkreath by the name of Thorn. Bishop, the Dragonborn's Ranger and lover, has had past dealings with Thorn and wishes to put an end to him. In their haste, Bishop and the Dragonborn find themselves captured. The Dragonborn is subjected to brutal treatment at Thorn's hands. She is drugged, raped and beaten repeatedly. She begins to lose her grip on her sanity and struggles to remain in control of herself. Can she escape Thorn's lair or will she fade away and become nothing more than another one of his victims?WARNING: Graphic sexual scenes depicting rape, torture, dismemberment and violence. Trigger Warnings.





	1. Chapter 1

Ever since she’d met the broody Ranger, Avalon had always felt a complete sense of protection from him. While Bishop was snide, ill mannered and short tempered, he always seemed to make her well being his priority. He also spoke his mind, hardly ever taking the time to consider his words and those he stung with the venom he flung. He was guarded, refusing to take pleasure in any activity which involved others. However, that excluded killing bandits and thieves. Sometimes Avalon even felt he was annoyed with her company. He was quick to lash out in anger, his sharp tongue cutting her cruelly at times. Yet, there were others times when he was needlessly kind to her. He would make sure to pick her favorite berries and have them on hand if she grew hungry. He always made sure she was the first to claim a hot bath and warm bed. He would also notice her maladies, concocting remedies and meticulously rubbing them on her sore muscles without having to be asked. He would also mend her armor if he saw a need for it. So many of his mannerisms were contradictory. He was fiercely protective and possessive of her, but there were times she feared he would simply leave her company for lending a hand to someone in need.

Bishop was certainly a mystery and a dangerous individual from what Avalon had gathered. She’d been warned by many to steer clear of Bishop. Cassavir, among others, had likened Bishop to the wolf he kept company with, savage and untrustworthy. However, Avalon had never feared Bishop, even when his eyes flashed dangerously at her obstinance or when her sharp witted tongue had lashed back at one of his biting comments. Despite all the warnings that he would be her doom, she’d always felt as if no harm would ever come to her while in his presence. He’d never placed her in any danger. That is, until now.

She had been tasked by the Jarl of Whiterun to investigate a series of missing persons. Her endeavors soon lead her to rumors of a sex trafficker hidden in the mountains beyond Falkreath. A reward had been offered for any information by several Jarls in the surrounding villages. Bishop had taken a keen interest in this bounty and told her that it needed to be dealt with immediately and before the trail went cold. He threatened to complete it with or without her help. This shocked Avalon since Bishop had always grumbled and complained over her self imposed duties. Since discovering she was the Dragonborn, Avalon felt as if she had a responsibility to help the people of Skyrim which irritated Bishop to no end. 

When Avalon had questioned Bishop about his interest in this particular bounty, he had become incredibly sullen. He told Avalon of a man he had an unfortunate run in with by the name of Thorn years ago. Though he played off his knowledge of the bandit, Avalon wondered just how well Bishop knew Thorn. Bishop had intimate knowledge of Thorn’s operation and its inner workings. He described how Thorn would lure people away with his charm and good looks, trapping them and then using their flesh in trade for coin. Avalon had watched Bishop’s face as he described Thorn and his lecherous bandits. He appeared infuriated by such despicable acts and she felt relieved knowing he had never taken part in the vile trade.

“So, what is it you seek?” She asked him as he tracked a lead through the woods. “Revenge?” 

“Something like that,” he murmured as he followed a trail she couldn’t see.

“Either it is or it isn’t!” She argued obstinately.

He turned to her, his feral eyes dancing with the desire for battle. “There are some things in my past I want to remain there, Ladyship. Don’t go digging up bones long since buried and forgotten.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?” She remarked pointedly.

Bishop stopped, his eyes flashing dangerously. Avalon held his gaze, unwilling to back down. “Why do you want this mark so badly?” She pressed.

Bishop smirked, admiring her tenacity. “Let’s just say Thorn and I didn’t leave on the best of terms. I don’t like loose ends. I cost him a lot that day and he’s been sending his men after me for years.” He turned his face to the makeshift door which was barely visible on the side of the mountain. He was sure it would take them to Thorn. “Maybe I’m tired of swatting the flies he sends my way.” Bishop continued up the path with his wolf, Karnwyr, following close at his heels.

Avalon sighed as she followed him. “Then let’s cut the head off the snake.” 

They entered through the door, creeping into the lair stealthily. Avalon assiduously dispatched three guards before Bishop could even pull his dagger. She was getting really good with the bow. As they crept through the dank cavern, they came upon a large area which had been furnished as a sex dungeon. Avalon gaped at the tools of torture used for sexual depravity on unwilling victims. Blood stained the floor, chains hung from the ceiling and various switches and restraints patterned the walls. Open viewing rooms faced the center of the room with chains and shackles hanging from them. She gazed into one of the rooms and saw a man hanging limp and naked. From the smell of him, he had been dead for days now. 

Avalon heard the primal groanings of a man in the next cell. She crept around to see a bandit with his pants around his waist and holding a limp girl in his arms while he thrust his bony hips into her. Bishop swept into the cell, slicing the distracted bandit’s throat. Avalon’s vision turned as crimson as the bandit’s blood. The thug dropped the girl in his arms and she fell heavily to the floor. The bandit stumbled out of the small room and into Avalon’s dagger. She wrenched it into his back, twisting it mercilessly and listening to the death rattle in his lungs before he dropped to the floor.

She went into the cell, pulling the naked girl into her lap.

“Bishop!” Avalon whispered in dismay. “She is but a child!”

Bishop scrutinized the girl with a shrug. “She’s a Dunmer, so probably from Solstheim. They tend to sell off the middle children when they’ve too many mouths to feed. Easier to part with than newborn babes and more coin in it.”

Avalon gaped at his blatant insensitivity. “How can you be so cold?”

Bishop’s eyes seemed to glow in the torchlight. “It’s called life, Princess, and it doesn’t favor those with kind hearts.”

Avalon shifted the girl on her lap, petting her hopelessly matted and dirty hair. The young girl stared at Avalon without seeing her. She appeared to be looking through Avalon and at some distant thing no one else could ever see.

“What’s wrong with her?” Avalon asked.

“Thorn uses a variety of tactics to break the will of his victims,” Bishop replied in a low voice, his eyes alert and scanning. “Skooma and other various drugs, daily beatings, anything he can do to make them obedient.”

Avalon shuddered. “That is monstrous.” She tried to coax the girl to stand.

“Leave her!” Bishop hissed.

Avalon gaped at him and Bishop softened his tone. “I know your heart is in the right place, Ladyship, but there’s nothing left of her to save. She’s gone and has been for quite sometime.”

Avalon wanted to argue with Bishop, but he was right. When she looked into the girl’s eyes, they were completely vacant. Her young mind had long since fled her tired and abused body. At one point the girl had been a vibrant youth, full of hopes and dreams. Now, her life had been stolen, leaving her as nothing more than a living skeleton much like the Draugr Avalon encountered in the ruins.

A fury unlike any Avalon had ever known was born in her chest. She despised the bandits and Thorn. They were a disease, a plague on all of Tamriel which needed to be eradicated. She silently vowed to cast the scourge which was Thorn and his followers from this world and into the fiery depths of Oblivion.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Avalon soothed to the girl. She reached into her pack, pulling out a vial of poison she had acquired from a particularly nasty Hagraven’s nest. She uncapped the vial, placing it to the girl’s cracked lips and watched as the deadly green concoction flowed into the little elf’s mouth. Avalon gently pressed up on the girl’s chin and watched her swallow the poison. Avalon observed as the girl’s dark, dull eyes stared blindly across the room. It only took a moment before the poison began to work. The girl whimpered with an involuntary shudder, her body seizing as Avalon embraced her tightly. Soon, the girl ceased to move and her last quivering breath drifted from her throat, echoing through the chamber as her sightless eyes fixated on the ceiling. 

Avalon sighed softly, closing the young girl’s eyes before lying her on the stone floor. “You’re free now, little one.”

Bishop watched her, his face betraying his annoyance at the delay.

“Can you find me a blanket?” Avalon implored Bishop.

“We don’t have time for your sympathy, Ladyship,” he grumbled hotly. 

Avalon glowered at him. “This girl was not given any kindness within these walls. I will be damned if I don’t see her to her ancestors without giving her at least one.”

Bishop growled, knowing he couldn’t dissuade Avalon from her decision. Karnwyr nuzzled Avalon, whining as he did. This only further antagonized Bishop. The wolf belonged to him, not her, but Karnwyr had a peculiar connection with Avalon which made Bishop jealous beyond measure.

He managed to find a blanket among the discarded piles of clothing heaped in a forgotten corner. Avalon wrapped the girl in it, saying a prayer over her as she did.

Bishop waited impatiently for Avalon to finish.

“I’m ready,” she announced, standing quickly and striding out of the cell.

“About time,” Bishop scoffed, casting his glance over to the young girl one last time. He shook his head. “Waste of good poison.”

Avalon ignored his callous remark, continuing to move through the dungeon quietly. They came upon many empty cells with straw carelessly strewn through them and buckets in the corner full of unattended body waste. Avalon wrinkled her nose. It appeared Thorn and his men were vulgar in more ways than she cared to count. 

After a bit of wandering, they came upon a closed door. Avalon listened intently and could hear voices on the other side. She knew opening the door would alert whoever stood beyond it to their presence. She looked to Bishop who nodded in understanding.

She burst through the door, her arrow at the ready. Thorn stood from where he sat, his penetrating blue eyes appraising her. 

“Who have we here?” He asked calmly. “Is it a mouse wandering and lost in my cave?” His eyes lit up as he gazed at her. “Ah, no, not a mouse at all, but the lovely Dragonborn. This is quite the surprise.”

Avalon’s eyes widened as scrutinized him. Bishop had been right. Thorn was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen in her life. His body looked as if it had been sculpted by a Daedric Prince and his voice was beguiling. It was no wonder he’d fooled so many. He looked nothing like a monster who’d inflicted countless horrors on so many. 

Thorn’s eyes traveled lasciviously over her body. “Bishop,” he addressed the Ranger causally, his eyes never straying from Avalon. “Another surprise. Could it be you’ve brought me the Dragonborn as a peace offering for me to roll upon my furs?”

Avalon stiffened, revolted by the thought of Thorn touching any part of her.

“And if I have?” Bishop remarked nonchalantly. “Would she repay my debt?”

Avalon ground her teeth together. She knew Bishop was only trying to buy them time and evaluate the battleground, but she didn’t like being used as leverage, even if it was only as a ruse.

Avalon counted Thorn’s men and swore to herself silently. They had sorely underestimated his manpower.

Thorn continued to watch Avalon. “She would repay your debt and then some.”

Bishop gave a disturbing, predatory grin. “Then it’s too bad you can’t have her.”

Thorn smirked, amused. “No matter what you say, I’ll be caressing her tight insides with my cock tonight.”

The comment caused Avalon to snap. The leer on Thorn’s lips as he gazed intently at her body sickened her. The words erupted from her mouth before she even knew she was speaking them.

“FUS RO DAH!” She shouted, sending Thorn and his smug smile careening across the room and into a nearby wall with a satisfying crack. He slumped to the floor.

“Damnit!” Bishop swore as a bandit lunged at him. Bishop dodged the swipe, planting his dagger firmly into the bandit’s gut. He chuckled ruthlessly as he removed the blade, advancing at a frenzied thug fumbling with his bow.

Avalon released her tense arrow into the skull of an oncoming goon. She was reaching for another arrow when she heard the distinct crackle of magic. She discarded her bow, throwing up her hands and conjuring a magic buffer that deflected the fireball which soared into her.

Avalon quickly lowered her arms, clutching her fingers around the air until she felt it harden and solidify coldly in her hand. She flung the ice spear she had conjured at her attacker. He threw up a barrier, deflecting the spike.

“Get him, Karnwyr!” Avalon ordered to the wolf. Karnwyr raised his eyes to her, tattered remains of blood soaked cloth clinging to his snout. He lunged for the caster, leaving the miserable sot he’d been shredding to bleed out. Karnwyr grabbed the caster’s arm, yanking it down and shattering the magical shield. Avalon threw another ice spike, striking the caster in the chest. He groaned, diving behind a wooden beam for protection.

She splayed her fingers, getting ready to conjure an atronach when a fist collided with her jaw. She stumbled to her knee, tasting blood on her lips. Her wild eyes flew to her attacker and she barely had time to breathe before Thorn was upon her.

“FUS!” She uttered quickly just as Thorn’s fingers latched around her throat. Thorn staggered backwards, flailing wildly in an attempt to keep his balance. In her haste, Avalon had not used the full extent of the shout.

As she stood preparing to strike at Thorn again when a bolt of lightning crackled through the air, encompassing her. Avalon screamed as the heat of the magic seared at her skin. She turned her rage filled eyes to the caster who had managed to escape Karnwyr’s jaws long enough to attack her.

She grabbed her dagger, unsheathing it quickly and launching it through the air. It struck the caster in the neck. His eyes widened with surprise as his fingers grasped at the blade. He fell to his knees and then was at the mercy of Karnwyr’s sharp and savage teeth.

“Enough!” Thorn shouted. Avalon wrenched her attention back to Thorn, ice spikes already formed in both hands. Her heart nearly stopped as she saw Thorn.

He held Bishop by the hair, a blade pressed against his neck. One of Thorn’s men restrained Bishop’s arms while Thorn used Bishop as a shield.

“Yield, Dragonborn,” Thorn warned. “Or the Ranger dies.”

Avalon’s chest heaved with pants as her eyes flickered between Bishop and Thorn. She was aware of another bandit who had an arrow trained on her head. Her mind raced as she tried to decide what spell she could cast that would save them. She felt her spirit drop as she could think of only one that might give her an edge. If she were to shout Soul Tear at Thorn, it would rip his soul from his physical form and imprison it in a soul gem while his body became her thrall, doing her bidding before it crumbled to ash. Avalon hated the shout. She detested the idea of stealing someone’s soul and damning it. She had always acted on principle and had never spoken the words since learning them from Durnehviir.

“Don’t listen to him, Ladyship,” Bishop snarled, struggling against his captors. Thorn pushed the dagger deeper into Bishop’s neck and Avalon was alarmed to see a thin trail of blood peak over the blade. Bishop appeared unphased by this. “Kill him!”

Avalon’s mind spun with fear and indecision. Though Bishop could come across as crass and unsympathetic, she knew he cared for her. Ever since the first night when they had shared a bed, he’d shown her just how tender he could be. He had worshipped her and treated her as if she were the sun and the moon. She’d never felt so much passion from one individual. She felt this each time they had lain together. Despite this, Avalon didn’t know if he loved her, but she knew that she loved him. She had started falling in love with him ever since that first night. It was because of this that she knew couldn’t imagine a life without him. 

Avalon gazed forlornly at Bishop. She could still use Soul Tear in hopes it would entrap Thorn and cause him to fight as her minion. However, given how Thorn held Bishop as a shield, it was also quite possible that her shout would miss and entrap Bishop instead. Avalon couldn’t bring herself to take that risk. She also knew she could never forgive herself if she were the instrument of Bishop’s death. 

Avalon gradually dropped her hands to her sides, her ice spikes evaporating into the air.

“What’re you doing?!” Bishop shouted, fighting against the man who held him. “Kill them!”

Thorn smirked as he watched Avalon surrender. He lowered the blade from Bishop’s throat. “Hm, it appears the Dragonborn is fond of her pet.”

“Bishop…” Avalon whispered apologetically. She noticed too late the spark of alarm which danced in his eyes. Before she could react, a heavy sword hilt struck against the side of her head. Avalon’s world toppled around her and she bounced heavily against the ground. She groaned, her vision swimming in and out of focus. Karnwyr growled viciously, jumping in front of her downed form with his hackles raised and snapping his jaws at Thorn’s men. His sharp growls echoed chillingly throughout the chamber.

“Karnwyr,” Avalon mumbled weakly. “Run. Run now!”

The wolf turned his head to her, his eyes staring into hers. Avalon had always had an affinity with the wolf. He seemed to understand her better than any animal should. She knew her relationship with Karnwyr had always been a point of contention between her and Bishop. The wolf keened in dismay, nuzzling her throbbing head.

“RUN!” Avalon commanded, feeling the ground tremble beneath her shout. Without further hesitation, Karnwyr fled from the chamber. An arrow trailed after him, narrowly missing the wolf as he disappeared through the doorway.

Avalon turned her wavering sight to Bishop. His amber eyes glowed bright with concern as he stared back at her.

“I...I’m sorry,” she whispered before dropping into a deep darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

“Wake up, Dragonborn,” a distant voice taunted.

Avalon groaned weakly, her head pounding worse than the morning after Bishop had challenged her to a drinking match. She had found out firsthand just how much ale that man could handle before passing out.

A sharp pain tingled across her cheek as Thorn struck her. The pounding in Avalon’s skull intensified to a nearly unbearable pulse. She let out a muffled cry, her eyes fluttering open. Her vision took a moment to clear as she endeavored to study her surroundings. She was in a small, damp room covered in moss and rock. Her mouth had been stuffed with a rag and then bound, making it impossible for her to use her shouts. Her eyes drifted to Thorn who sneered triumphantly at her.

“That’s it, sweetness,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke her cheek.

Avalon attempted to jerk away from him only to become aware of her limited ability to move. She was suspended in the air by a chain with the wall mere inches from her back. She recognized the cell a moment later. It was where Thorn and his lackeys had kept their abused prisoners. She could now feel the ache in her arms as they were stretched far above her head and supporting the weight of her body. She looked up to see that her hands were bound together and gloved. She endeavored to clench her fingers in order to conjure fire, but it was no use. Though the binds nearly immobilized her hands, she realized it was the gloves which stopped her from casting. They were enchanted and specifically used to hinder the use of magic.

“Hmph--” She cursed, her words hopelessly muffled by the cloth in her mouth. 

“Oh, that will do you no good, my dear,” Thorn chided condescendingly. “You won’t be able to use any of your shouts now. It’s a pity, though. I would’ve loved to see what could fit in that pretty little mouth of yours.” He gave a mock sigh. “But that’s a risk I can’t take. You understand.”

Avalon glared hatefully at him, wishing she had used Soul Tear when she’d had the chance. Thorn reached to his side, sliding a dagger leisurely out of its sheath and thumbing it contemplatively. Avalon watched him attentively. 

“The great and powerful Dragonborn,” Thorn announced loudly. “Here in my dungeon and at my complete and utter mercy.” He grinned wickedly at her. “Such a wondrous honor.”

He traced the dagger over her collarbone and Avalon flinched as the sharp blade sliced into her flesh. Thorn’s eyes danced with delight.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” he murmured, his eyes now transfixed on the small bead of blood which traveled down the blade of his dagger. “My men wanted to do such horrible and unspeakable things to you while you slept, but I wouldn’t let them.” He drew closer to her, his nose nearly touching hers. “No. I told them you were mine and you were going to be awake for every single moment.” He lowered the dagger down to her chest, slicing through the leather laces of her undershirt. Avalon eyes widened in horror and she struggled against her binds, endeavoring to writhe away from the blade. Thorn appeared pleased

“You still have some fight left in you,” he chuckled appreciatively. “Good. I like it when they fight.”

Avalon’s breaths were rapid and panicked as she futilely attempted to twist her hands free of her binds. Thorn ignored her struggles, his dagger continuing to cut through the lacings of her shirt. Soon, he revealed her breasts to the cold dungeon air. Thorn tore the garment away from her skin, dropping the pieces of it to the floor and sliding the broad side of his dagger over her exposed nipple. Avalon stiffened, breathing in several shuddered breaths. She could only imagine the horrors Thorn had planned for her. 

Thorn grinned lasciviously, looking into her eyes as he pressed the tip of the blade down against her nipple. Avalon whimpered as the sharp point of the dagger cut her skin. Thorn withdrew the blade and dropped his head to her chest, languishing his tongue against her breast. He seized her nipple between his teeth and then began to suckle on it mercilessly. Avalon screamed into the rag, her cries woefully dampened. 

Thorn’s mouth turned with a smile upon her breast. He released his hold against her and she couldn’t stop the whimpers which fluttered in her throat.

“I always cherish the first scream, Dragonborn,” Thorn confessed. “Before this night’s over, you will scream even more.”

As if to prove his point, Thorn drug his teeth over her skin, sharply biting and suckling at her flesh as she thrashed away from him. He pulled away and watched her face as he pressed the tip of the dagger gently against her stomach. Avalon felt her body become rigid as Thorn trailed the blade lightly down her skin and past her navel, tucking it under the ridge of her small clothes. He leered at her as the blade effortlessly sliced through the fabric of her remaining coverings. Avalon grunted angrily, tenaciously clenching her thighs together as the last thing covering her modesty fell to the cold stone floor. Thorn laughed at her paltry attempt to maintain her virtue.

“Your insolence will do you no good here,” Thorn lectured. “Either you open your legs willingly and allow me to take what pleasures I desire from your flesh or I will have them removed.” He swiftly grabbed her face, squeezing her jaw tightly as he swung her to him. His hot breath was moist and fetid against her cheek. He drew his tongue across his lips, snaking up her binding and cheek. He appeared to enjoy the taste of her fear and dismay. “You would be surprised to learn that my men have various skills other than what you see here. Most of us, including myself, grew up on farms where one of our first lessons in life was to learn how to appropriately butcher livestock.” Thorn gauged her reaction as he spoke. “It takes skill, practice, a sharp blade and a steady hand to completely sever the bone on the first strike. We’ve had a lot of practice. Don’t fool yourself, Dragonborn. I have no qualms about taking your legs off and healing you, keeping only the good parts intact strictly for my pleasure.”

He placed his dagger into the sheath at his side, bending down and snatching her ankles in his hands. He slowly traced his lips over her tightly crossed legs. He sighed. “But you have such soft, pretty legs. It’d be a shame to chop them off.” Thorn nuzzled the patch of hair between her legs, breathing in deeply. Avalon fought against his hands, lashing out and trying to kick him. Thorn stood up, his face once again level with hers. The amusement had abated from his eyes. He seized the back of her hair, yanking down on it painfully and forcing Avalon to expose her throat to him. 

“Of course, there’s always another alternative,” Thorn whispered, trailing his teeth and tongue across her exposed throat, kissing her lightly. His other hand reached around her backside, stroking her back and then fondling the crease of her butt.

Avalon jerked her hips hard, desperate to get away from his probing fingers. However, her movements were in vain as Thorn clung to her hair tightly. He chuckled in her ear, nipping her earlobe sharply as his fingers roughly shoved between the crease of her cheeks. Avalon whimpered as he began to crudely stroke and rub her,

“There’s always this little hole,” Thorn mused. His voice was light, but deadly serious. “And no amount of leg crossing can keep me from it. Would you like to see?”

To demonstrate his complete and utter dominance over her, Thorn shoved his finger cruelly and deeply inside of her. Avalon cried out loudly against the cloth, swinging her hips towards Thorn in attempt to escape his brutal jab.

“You like that?” Thorn muttered, twisting his finger ruthlessly inside of her. “Do you think you could handle two? Or maybe something a whole lot bigger?”

Avalon sniffled, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as she unwound her legs.

“That’s a good girl,” Thorn said patronizingly as he removed his finger unnecessarily slow. He released her hair, allowing her head to drop back down. Avalon strove to keep herself steady, refusing to give Thorn the pleasure of her tears.

Thorn took a step back, allowing her a good view of him. He grasped his dagger once more, bringing it to his mouth and thoroughly wetting the blade with his tongue. Avalon watched him in alarm as he pulled the spittle slicked weapon from his mouth, reaching out and tracing the wetted blade down her stomach and over the patch of hair between her legs.

Avalon stiffened, striving to remain deathly still as Thorn rubbed the blade slowly between her legs, pressing the flat of the steel against her sex. She wanted to clench her legs closed again, but knew such an act would only serve to harm her more. She was in an incredibly dangerous situation and at the mercy of Thorn’s appetites.

Thorn continued to massage the flat of the blade against her clit. Avalon glared at him as he continued to tease her. He pushed the dagger down further and the edge of the razor caught her delicate skin, slicing her. Avalon gave a pitiful whimper at the sting of pain and Thorn smiled broadly. He liked it when he hurt her.

“Is that too sharp?” He asked. “Here, I have something better.” He sheathed his dagger and placed two fingers in his mouth, languishing his tongue over them so that she could see. He pulled his slick fingers from his mouth and reached between her legs. He pinched and massaged her clit between his fingers, rotating them deftly against her.

“It doesn’t have to be all bad, Dragonborn,” Thorn muttered distractedly. His fingers strayed from their position, sliding deep inside of her and massaging her inner walls. “It can feel good if you allow it.”

Avalon struggled to control the rampant breaths which fled from her nostrils. Thorn removed his fingers, placing them back in his mouth. He hummed softly as he sucked on them. 

“I can see why Bishop wanted you,” Thorn sighed appreciatively. “You taste as sweet as you look.”

Avalon’s composure fractured and she screamed in rage, kicking her legs out at Thorn and causing her body to swing into the wall behind her. She bounced off the hard stone, upset and mortified by the gleam of pleasure which danced in Thorn’s eyes. 

“I think you’re just about ready,” Thorn announced, his lips curling into an ugly smile. “Samil!”

“Yeah, boss?” A gruff voice replied. Avalon could not see where it came from.

“Bring Bishop,” Thorn ordered. His eyes eagerly appraised Avalon’s body as he tugged on the laces of his trousers. “I think he’d like to watch.”

Avalon’s breathing hitched and she almost choked on the rag stuffed so deeply in her mouth. The thought of Bishop being forced to watch Thorn ravage her body sickened her. Avalon screamed her discontent, writhing and twisting in the air. The chains rattled and mocked her attempts to flee. Thorn laughed at her as she continued to scream and fight. Suddenly, all her remaining strength fled from her extremities as she hung there like a helpless hog waiting to be gutted. Her head continued to pound and her arms ached. She could feel blood from where Thorn had cut her gradually trickle down her and her backside tingled with the unkind intrusion of his finger.

She watched as Thorn dropped his trousers, wincing at his sizable girth which was throbbing and eager to violate her. He stroked himself, aware that her eyes were locked on him.

“This is all for you, Dragonborn,” Thorn muttered. “And I can assure you, I won’t be gentle.”

Avalon could hear a struggle as two men wrestled to haul Bishop into the main room which looked in on the small dungeon. His feet were shackled and his hands were bound behind his back. His face was bloodied and bruised. There was a binding over his mouth as well. He growled and grunted as the bandits drug him into the chamber. 

“On your knees!” Samil commanded. Bishop refused to comply. Samil kicked Bishop in the back of the leg, forcing him to sink to the ground. His amber eyes blazed with contempt as he glared at his captors and Thorn. His eyes suddenly widened and flooded with concern as he saw Avalon’s helpless and naked form dangling from the chains.

Bishop’s face contorted into an ugly snarl and he fought against his binds, shouting and cursing unintelligibly. It took both Samil and the other bandit to restrain him.     
Thorn turned from Avalon and to Bishop, still stroking himself for good measure. Bishop’s face darkened menacingly and he bit down on the cloth in his mouth.

“You know what happens now, don’t you, Bishop?” Thorn mused conversationally. “I’m going to have your woman. I’m going to take her hard and rough while you watch.” Thorn smiled. “I’m going to hurt her.”

“Ymph sn of bch! Un kl u!” Bishop screamed against the cloth.

Thorn cupped his hand around his ear, mocking Bishop’s cries. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t hear you.” Thorn smirked. “But you’ll hear her.”

Thorn returned his attention to Avalon. Her eyes blazed with unshed tears as she stared at Bishop. She innately clenched her legs together once more.

Thorn clicked his tongue. “Remember what I said? You have a choice. Either let me in, lose your legs or I take my pleasures elsewhere.” He lowered his voice. “It doesn’t matter which way this goes to me, but I can imagine your Ranger would be even more devastated having to watch me cut you up before I take my pleasure from you.”

Avalon whimpered and the tears she had strove so hard not to shed finally fell from her eyes. Reluctantly, she unwound her legs. She heard Bishop shout and struggle, but she was unable to bring herself to look at him.

Thorn grabbed her hips roughly, digging his fingers into her flesh. He pulled her to him, hitching her legs around his waist. Avalon sniffled as she felt the heat of him press against her opening. His fingers squeezed the back of her knees as his hips worked slowly, moving his tip against her.

Thorn leaned into her, nipping her earlobe. “Now, you will scream for me.”

He thrust his hips into her hard, sending her back against the wall of the dungeon. Her tailbone collided sharply with the stone, giving Thorn leverage as he tore into her. The force of the thrust ripped her delicate and thin skin. Despite her best efforts, Avalon screamed. Her scream was followed by Bishop’s scream of rage. Tears streamed relentlessly from her eyes as Thorn’s hips bucked into her, his thrusts deep and unyielding. She could feel the sharp and rough stones cut into her back as he mercilessly used his girth to torture her, shoving it into her with a deep, seemingly unending fury. Avalon moaned and cried under the violent barrage. Her eyes met with Bishop’s and they blazed with the fiery depths of bloodlust and hatred. She knew if he could that he would kill every last one of them and bathe in their blood. 

Thorn’s grunts and moans rang hollowly in her ears as he slipped in and out of her. He dropped her leg, his hand coming up to her breast and twisting it painfully. Avalon whined, unable to control her reactions because of the rampant pain which ruled her body.    
“You feel so good,” Thorn panted. “But I think I know something that’ll feel even better.”

He removed himself from her loins and Avalon’s other leg fell in relief. However, her relief was short lived as Thorn spun her around, pressing her face and chest against the water pitted stone.

Avalon’s pain filled mind registered with alarm and she struggled against Thorn as he pressed her flush with the stone.

“Have you ever let Bishop take you from behind?” Thorn mused, guiding his hard girth against her. “Or am I your first?”

Avalon could hear Bishop’s struggles and cries. Samil threatened Bishop and she heard the sound of a punch land. Bishop groaned in reply to the strike.

Thorn ignored them, his focus completely on Avalon. “You’re so warm,” he breathed against her neck. “I’ll bet you’re tight, too.”

Without warning, Thorn parted her cheeks and inserted the tip of his girth into her ass. Avalon screamed. The pain was nothing like she had ever felt before. He continued to shove himself in her, moaning and gasping as he did.

“Oh, so I am your first,” Thorn panted euphorically. “I’m honored.”

Avalon wept and wailed as Thorn violated her, pushing into her so deep and coming out so slow that she feared he would tear her insides out with him. He slammed her into the dungeon wall, his hand coming around and grasping at her breasts and nipples as his hips fervently moved against her. His teeth sank into her shoulder and the back of her neck. She could hear her screams and cries, but was surprised they came from her. She’d never made such sounds in all her life. She desperately tried to suppress them, but found she was no longer in control of her emotions.

Suddenly, Thorn yanked himself from her painfully, spinning her back around to face him. Avalon’s eyes went wide as Thorn’s fingers clamped tightly around her throat.

“How does it feel?” Thorn panted, raising her leg with his free hand and returning his girth to her sore, tender loins. His hips jerked with a frenzied rhythm and he plunged into her desperately. Her bones ached and her muscles were on fire. 

“How does it feel?” Thorn reiterated. “To be my whore? To be my vessel of pleasure? To be suspended upon my loins while your Ranger watches as my seed spills out from between your legs?” He moaned, grinding his hips mercilessly into her as he continued to tighten his hold on her throat.

Avalon choked as black dots crept across her vision. She struggled against his grasp, desperate to free herself. A distinct ringing sound had begun a shrill pitch within her ears. Avalon bucked her hips against him futilely.

“Oh, yes,” Thorn groaned loudly, catching her between him and the wall once more. As she struggled in his grasp, this forced her hips to twist and roll over him, giving him unintended pleasure. 

“I love it when they fight!” Thorn panted, sinking himself into her as deeply as possible. 

Avalon began to elicit horrible choking noises. This only seemed to fuel Thorn’s desire. He moaned loudly, releasing her leg and bruising her breast with his hand. His fingers continued to tighten against her windpipe. Avalon’s eyes rolled up and she could no longer see Bishop or hear his screams. A new sound had filled her ears. It sounded like rushing water mixed with Thorn’s desperate and ragged pants.

“How does it feel, Dragonborn, to die with me inside you?” Thorn gasped, pumping his hips against her one final time before filling her with the heat of his gratification. Thorn cried out, sinking his teeth into her collarbone and biting down on her flesh. Avalon twitched in response as his teeth broke through her skin. Thorn’s rough and deep movements lessened, becoming jerky and shallow. He released Avalon’s throat and she breathed in deeply, her world spinning brightly before her eyes.

Thorn removed himself from her torn and bruised loins. She could feel his wetness slide down the sides of her legs. Thorn reached his hand between her legs, his fingers coming back wet with a mixture of his cum and her blood.

“You see this, Bishop?” Thorn breathed, his voice ragged from his exertion. “She belongs to me now.” He placed his fingers over Avalon’s brow, wiping his spent fluid and her blood across her skin. She barely had the strength to raise her eyes to him.

He grinned lewdly at her. “And that’s just the beginning.”

Thorn struck her across the face, sending her head into the stone with a sharp crack. Avalon’s world fell away and she sank into blissful darkness.

Thorn turned from her limp form. “Samil, I’m feeling generous. Take a turn.” 

Samil eagerly released Bishop who writhed and twisted in the grasp of the other bandit’s arms. Thorn caught Samil’s arm as he approached Avalon.

“Don’t spoil her,” he warned. “That’s for me to do.”

Samil nodded fervidly, his eyes flickering back to Avalon.

Thorn tucked his manhood back into his pants, sauntering over to Bishop and kneeling before him. “You should’ve never crossed me, Bishop. You should’ve left well enough alone. Now I will take the only thing you care about. I will take her in every way conceivable. I will break her just as I’ve broken countless others. But I’m willing to make a deal. Will you be a good little wolf and listen?”

Bishop glared at him in reply.

Thorn reached over, tugging at Bishop’s gag. “I will keep her for my own personal use. No one else will touch her and I won’t trade her. She will be mine and I will treat her kinder than what you saw here.” 

Bishop spat out the cloth in his mouth. He glowered at Thorn. “And what do you expect in return?”

“You go far away and never return here,” Thorn replied.

Bishop’s eyes flickered to Samil who was working himself up by roaming his hands all over Avalon’s form.

Bishop gritted his teeth. “Tell him to get away from her.”

“Samil,” Thorn shouted. “I’ve changed my mind. The Dragonborn is mine and mine alone.”

“But...but…” Samil stammered, looking down at his erection like he had no idea what to do about it.

“Sink it into the Dunmer,” Thorn ordered.

“But she’s been dead for near a whole day!” Samil whined.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caught you with a stiff,” Thorn retorted. Bishop felt the bile rise in his throat as Samil pulled up his pants, hobbling over to the dungeon where the elf girl Avalon had mercifully released still lay. He unwrapped her from the blanket and struggled to sit her rigid body against the wall. Samil pulled down on her mouth and inserted himself inside. Bishop clenched his teeth together so hard that his jaw hurt. He hoped enough poison lingered in the little girl’s mouth to rot off Samil’s cock.

“Do we have a deal, Bishop?” Thorn asked.

Bishop’s gaze focused on Samil as he held the young girl by the ears, forcing himself into her, making panting whines which reminded Bishop of a gutted hog. It was bad enough watching Thorn defile the woman he loved, but to see others do so would slowly drive Bishop insane.

“You’ll let me go? Just like that?” Bishop mused. “Seems too easy. Why offer me this?”

“I don’t know,” Thorn murmured. “Maybe it’s because it will make you suffer knowing you walked away and abandoned the only thing you ever truly cared about. I guarantee your suffering no matter what. Either you watch as I take my pleasure from her and my men follow or you leave her to me and carry the guilt of knowing you abandoned the woman who depended on you. But at least it will be to a better fate than the alternative. My men have some truly disturbing fetishes. Choose, Ranger.” 

Bishop’s lip curled into a snarl and his amber eyes flashed brightly. “Then you leave me with little choice. Take her. The wench is yours.”

Thorn smirked. “You always knew a good deal when you saw it.” He stood up and addressed the other bandit. “Take our friend back to his cell. I need to arrange transport for him.”

“On your feet!” The thug commanded. 

Bishop complied, his eyes watching Avalon’s unconscious form as the bandit marched him through the dank cavern. He knew Thorn would not simply allow him to walk free. He would starve and torture Bishop and feign his release, only to order his men to kill him when he thought he was free. That was how Thorn operated. He enjoyed being overly cruel. Bishop vowed that he would escape somehow and come back for Avalon and when he did, he would rip Thorn’s throat out and drink the man’s blood. Bishop just hoped Avalon would survive Thorn’s appetites until he could find a way to save her.


	3. Chapter 3

Time was lost to Avalon. She had been drugged and deprived of sleep. Thorn was diligently trying to break her down. When she did manage to find sleep, she would always awaken to Thorn’s face leering over her, eager to make her suffer with his voracious sexual appetite.

Avalon had been thankful that there had been no further audiences with Bishop being forced to watch as Thorn ravaged her. Even though it seemed odd, Avalon found other things to be grateful for. Thorn had removed her from the dank and cold dungeon, placing her in his large bedchambers. He’d even given her a bed lined with plush furs. She spent a great deal of time tethered to the bed until Thorn’s hunger for torture caused him to parade her into the dungeon where he would strap her to a device and take his pleasure from her or hang her by the hands again. During these times, he enjoyed taunting her with his knife, often cutting her in soft and intimate places while she cried and pleaded into the gag. When her screams would die off, he would turn her over and take her roughly from behind. She knew this was just so he could hear her scream more.  

There were other times where he simply hung her by her hands and whipped her with a switch. He was skilled with the weapon, always leaving several painful and raised welts, but taking great care to never scar her skin. He loved to cover her body in tender welts and then begin to overlap them. This was when she cried the most. Even though her cries were always muffled by the cloth perpetually lodged in her mouth, they were enough to excite Thorn. On occasions like this, Thorn would touch himself as he whipped her, dousing her front and backside with his powerful release.

Avalon had felt herself begin to weaken as time passed. Thorn and his lackeys had been drugging her with an aromatic sedative which rendered her conscious, but unable to use her muscles. Once she was in this state, they would nourish her with food and force her to inhale Skooma. She quickly developed a dependency on the Skooma, losing her will to fight against Thorn’s torture sessions. When this happened, Thorn would abruptly stop the drug flow. As her body combated her addiction, she would slip into horrible, nightmarish withdrawals. It was only during these episodes that Thorn would remove the gag from her when she was not under the influence of the sedative. Unable to shout or coherently form words, she would shudder and scream as he mercilessly violated her. In her fevered state, Thorn would transform into gruesome apparitions. Sometimes he would take on the form of a rotted Draugr or Daedric demon. Other times he would shift into much more horrible forms like that of her father or worse, Bishop. Thorn always ended these encounters by choking Avalon to near black out and then placing his girth into her mouth and finishing in her throat with deep, keening thrusts.

Avalon’s body had become a map of pain and she soon began to lose her grip on reality. There were times when Thorn was gentle and she found herself craving his tenderness. She would sometimes awaken to find him bathing her or gently massaging a salve into her aching muscles or tending to the cuts he had inflicted upon her. She despised herself for wanting and desiring this gentle side of him when he was the reason her world had become a torture filled, relentless nightmare. However, it was definitely something she had come to enjoy when it happened.

“Do you miss Bishop?” Thorn asked one day as he rolled a warm, wetted cloth across her chest.

Avalon gazed at him, shaking her head from side to side.

Thorn had asked her this question many times in the past. He had told her that Bishop had been released and had willfully abandoned her to Thorn’s mercy. Avalon didn’t believe Thorn had released Bishop. Instead, she feared he was dead. She had not seen him in any of the cells when Thorn corralled her past them. She wondered if she would prefer to think Bishop had abandoned her rather than to believe he was buried somewhere in the woods in a shallow grave. 

Thorn’s eyes widened at her admission. In the past, she had always reacted vehemently to the question. Later, she had simply ignored it. Now she answered Thorn as best as she could.

“No?” Thorn inquired, dipping the cloth into the basin of water and squeezing it. He returned the cloth to her forehead, softly dabbing at her face.

“Does that mean you like being here with me?” He asked.

Avalon nodded, shifting her body against the bed and spreading her legs.

Thorn paused, the cloth lingering against her brow. 

“Is that an invitation?” He asked, studying her meticulously.

She nodded again. Thorn dropped the rag into the basin, slowly stripping off his clothes while Avalon watched. He settled between her legs, his lips and mouth brushing against her with soft, tender motions to which she was unaccustomed. Thorn took his time, entering her delicately, exchanging his usual barbarism with slow, leisured strokes designed to please her. Avalon moaned contentedly as she raised her hips to meet with the hard muscles of Thorn’s body. He reached back, deftly unshackling her feet. Avalon promptly wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him into her deeper. He watched her as she writhed against his girth, his fingers trailing over her hardened nipples and pinching lightly.

“Show me you want it,” Thorn ordered breathlessly. 

Avalon moaned in response, rubbing her hips across him, using her body to accept him as best as she could despite the inability to use her hands. She exposed her neck to Thorn as she gyrated her hips over his girth. He growled lasciviously, placing a strong hand gently against her throat. He leaned his weight into her, applying pressure while making sure she could still breathe.

Avalon’s soft whimpers became cries as she moved herself across him, her muscles clenching desperately as she strove for her release. Finally, her gentle whines became throaty moans of passion as she came undone around Thorn’s throbbing stiffness as she continued to undulate her spent passion over him. Avalon’s movements lessened and she exhaled a contented sigh through her nostrils. 

Thorn released her throat, his fingers caressing her cheek delicately. He stared down at her in admiration before leaning down to her ear.

“I told you it could be pleasurable for you, too,” he whispered before gathering her legs up in his hands moving his hips fervidly into her. Avalon moaned, rising up to meet him as his hands traveled across her body, cradling her like a lover rather than an object. Soon, she was filled with the familiar sensation of Thorn’s warmth and he collapsed beside her, admiring her body in the glow of the firelight as his fingers danced over her breasts.

“I’m going to remove your gag,” he said. “Just for a moment. If you try to shout, I will silence you and it won’t be pleasant. Do you understand?”   
Avalon nodded slowly. Thorn propped himself up against his arm, reaching over and untying the gag. He pulled the dry rag from her mouth. She swallowed several times in an effort to wet her parched throat. She gazed at him gratefully.

“That’s my girl,” Thorn hummed, petting the side of her face. “You deserve a treat. Would you like some Skooma, my pet?”

“Please,” Avalon whispered, her voice ragged from disuse. “But I have a request.”

Thorn gazed at her, displeased with her audacity. “Oh?”

Avalon ran her tongue along her dry and cracked lips. “Kiss me?”

Thorn’s brow furrowed in contemplation as he considered Avalon’s request. She could tell he was at war with himself and didn’t fully trust her.

“I want to taste you,” Avalon implored.

Thorn grinned, dropping his mouth to her, biting her bottom lip firmly as he did. Avalon moaned beneath his touch, her tongue seeking his. Thorn accepted her tongue into his mouth, sucking on it fervently. His fingers roamed across her nipples as the kiss deepened. Avalon began sucking on his tongue, eliciting a deep moan from Thorn.

He broke the kiss abruptly, gazing at her hungrily. “What else are you willing to put in that beautiful mouth of yours?”   
Avalon gave him a small smile. “Whatever you want to give me.”

Thorn smirked, trailing his fingers down her stomach and dipping them into the wetness between her legs. When he brought them up, they were slick and glistening. Avalon obediently opened her mouth and Thorn placed his fingers on top of her tongue. She sucked on them, tasting the combination of her fluids and his on his skin. She rolled her tongue against him until he appeared satisfied with her display.

“Good girl,” Thorn whispered appreciatively. He turned to his side and retrieved the skooma pipe from its heated dish. He placed it against her lips and she inhaled deeply. Avalon hummed as the pleasant sensation of floating began to claim her body. Thorn raised the gag and Avalon opened her mouth to receive it. Thorn appeared pleased that she didn’t protest as he secured the gag. He left the room shortly after, leaving Avalon to the effects of the Skooma. She embraced the sensation, grateful for the euphoric state it induced.

Time stretched on and continued to have no meaning. Despite Avalon’s submission, Thorn would still periodically parade her into the dungeon and subject her to torture or to the whip. Avalon no longer fought to control her screams. She released them willingly at each bite of the switch or each painful thrust. Thorn appeared to get off quicker when she screamed. More frequently, she would find Thorn at her side, coming to her for an intimate session where he would unbind her legs and allow her the freedom of movement and the freedom of her own pleasures. He had even unshackled her hands once and placed her on top of him so that he could watch her ride him. Though things were better than they were, Thorn still enjoyed retracting her Skooma supply and ravaging her during the nightmarish withdrawals she endured. It didn’t take long after her submission for Thorn to place her in his own bed.  

Thorn stood over her with a switch. She was splayed across his bed and tethered to it as usual. This time he had forgone taking her to the dungeon where his bandits watched and leered as Thorn took pleasures of her flesh. This time, it was only them. He swiped at her tender breasts with the switch, leaving another pink welt crossing over the top of one which was already swollen and raised against her skin. Her stomach and thighs were already completely covered in welts. He liked to save her breasts for last.

He struck her twice more and Avalon whimpered and screamed for him just the way he liked it. Thorn quickly dropped the switch and straddled her. He removed her gag with one hand while the other stroked himself rapidly. Avalon obediently opened her mouth and he drove his cock into her throat, grabbing the sides of her head as he did. He thrust his hips deep into her and she did her best not to gag as his sharp movements choked her. His fingers laced through her hair as he panted and then groaned, spewing a sizable amount of fluid into her mouth.

“Swallow,” he commanded breathlessly as he gazed down at her. Avalon did as she was told, swallowing all he had given her and sucking him clean. Thorn sighed contentedly, moving off her and grabbing the salve he kept on the bookshelf next to the bed. He dipped his fingers into the mixture, applying the soothing ointment to the wounds he had inflicted upon her only moments before.

“Do you like giving me pleasure?” Thorn asked seriously as his fingers massaged the angry red welts across her breasts.

She nodded and Thorn stopped, gazing down at her.

“I want to hear you say it,” he said.

Avalon looked into his eyes, her gaze unwavering. “I’m here to please you.”

“Louder,” Thorn ordered.

“I’m here to please you!” Avalon cried.

Thorn grinned. “Do you want me?”   
“I want you and only you,” Avalon replied. “I’m yours to do with as you please. I exist only for your pleasure.”

Thorn leaned down, capturing her chin between his finger. She could feel the salve smear across her skin. 

“Are you my good little whore?” He asked.

“Yes,” Avalon answered.

“Say it,” Thorn growled, squeezing her chin.

“I’m your good little whore,” Avalon repeated loudly.

Thorn smirked. “The once great and mighty Dragonborn has been broken, reduced to nothing more than a drug addled harlot. Imagine the coin I could get for you.” He frowned at the thought. “But I wouldn’t dream of it. You belong to me and you always will.” He returned to massaging the salve across her stomach.

“I love you,” Avalon murmured. 

Thorn stopped, his ice blue eyes widening. “What did you say?”

“I love you,” Avalon reiterated, gazing at him intently.

Thorn leaned down, pressing his lips against hers and kissed her tenderly. 

“I love you, too, Avalon,” he whispered as he pulled away.

Avalon smiled brightly. She believed him.

* * *

 

Sometime later that night, a desperate howl pierced through the air, stirring Avalon from her light slumber. She sighed, grateful Karnwyr had awakened her. He had remained in the cavern during her incarceration, skulking about in dark areas and tunnels where he would not be seen. Though she had been grateful he had stuck around, she’d worried for him during this time and wondered how he had managed to keep himself fed. 

Avalon looked over to Thorn who snored contentedly beside her. She had worked hard to sate his ravenous desires for the evening and had successfully left him exhausted. She wiggled her raw and swollen wrists against her bindings, testing the rope she had been wearing down each night when Karnwyr howled to awaken her. The howls were something Karnwyr had done when she and Bishop had made camp for the night in the woods. Karnwyr would remain awake while they slept, howling to alert them to approaching bandits or predators. Most people would’ve simply slept through the mournful bay, but Avalon had become accustomed to listening for it while in her travels with Bishop. 

Avalon began rubbing her binds against the decorative antlers which lined the top of the bed. The adornments had proven to be extremely effective in wearing down the rope. She was grateful Thorn had fallen for her ruse and now trusted her in his bed. This had made her plans for escape a tangible reality. He had become lackadaisical when it came to her restraints, no longer inspecting her binds or maintaining them which allowed her to gradually weaken them over time.

Avalon continued to rub her wrists against the antlers, wondering how long it would take for Thorn to discover the threadbare rope. Her tribulations came to an abrupt halt as the tightly woven braids of the rope suddenly loosened. Avalon stopped, her heart thundering loudly in her ears. She cautiously bent and flexed her fingers, twisting her wrist until it was free of the binds. 

She gazed at her liberated hand in bewilderment, a muffled sigh of disbelief shuddering against the rag in her mouth. Avalon quickly clawed at the remainder of rope, watching Thorn’s sleeping form keenly as she released her other hand. She pulled her aching arms down, relief flooding through her extremities. She grabbed the cloth wrapped around her jaw and yanked it off, removing the dry rag from her parched mouth. 

She breathed deeply, flexing her hands and feeling nothing except a numb tingle surge through them. She tried to remove the spellbinding gloves, but found her fingers would not cooperate. She meticulously pulled at her gloved fingertips with her teeth, discarding the gloves quickly. She could barely feel the air which touched the skin of her hands. She knew she would not be able to wield magic as long as her hands were like this, nor could she trust herself to adequately hold a weapon. She hoped, for her sake, she could still shout.

She meticulously slid off the edge of the bed, her legs unsteady against the weight of her body. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remain upright despite the protest of the muscles in her calves. She wanted nothing more than to slit Thorn’s throat while he slept and sneak away, but her pride demanded a more brutal vengeance.

Carefully, Avalon made her way to the water basin, dipping her head down and drinking in large mouthfuls of water. She made sure to hold the liquid in her mouth so she would not choke on it. The water soothed and cooled her irritated throat. She was certain she could shout now. She raised her eyes to the wooden door and to the lock. She knew Thorn kept the key on the table next to the door. She silently made her way to the table, squinting in the faint hearthlight in search for the old key. She finally spied it, wrestling with her tingling fingers to pick it up and place it gently in the lock. She turned it slowly, every scrape and creak amplified in the poorly lit room. The lock clicked into place, securing the door. She grimaced at the sound, holding her breath and waiting. Thorn continued to obliviously snore away on the bed. Avalon felt relieved that he was an incredibly heavy sleeper, especially when he had expended himself several times in one day.  She placed the key back on the table, her eyes coming to rest on a cloak which had been discarded on the floor. She picked it up, hastily wrapping herself in it. She realized this was the first modicum of covering she had adorned since she’d been captured. 

Anger percolated in the back of her mind and she spied Thorn’s precious dagger on the table. She picked it up and placed it in the pocket of the cloak. She returned to the bed, swiftly gathering her severed bindings and looping them painstakingly slow over Thorn’s wrists. She pulled his arms above his head and tethered him to the bed, thanking the Divines for his deep slumber. 

Once Avalon felt certain the knots would secure him, she drew back the covers and stared down in disdain at his flaccid manhood in the dim firelight. She retrieved the dagger and struggled to hold the hilt between her numb fingers as she gazed down at Thorn’s naked form. She reached down, grasping his shriveled cock tightly in her cold fingers. It had been the cause of so much of her misery and anguish. Now, it would be the cause of his.

Thorn moaned gently in his sleep as she squeezed him. She felt him harden in her grasp. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. 

“Wake up, you filthy bore,” she hissed, twisting the spongy piece of flesh clutched in her hand as hard as she could.

Thorn’s eyes quickly danced open and he gazed at Avalon in confusion.

“What?” He mumbled, jerking his hand only to have it rattle the bedframe as the rope restrained his movements. He tried to move his other hand, but was met with the same resistance. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as he gazed at Avalon.

She glowered at him, brandishing his dagger so he could see it. Thorn’s eyes filled with fear and understanding.

“An eye for an eye,” Avalon growled. She yanked up on the softening shaft of his manhood, willing her fingers to clutch the dagger tightly as she sank the blade into his soft flesh.

Thorn bellowed in anguish, bucking against the bed and nearly displacing her hold on him. 

“TIID KLO UI!” Avalon shouted and watched as time began to trickle to a crawl, entrapping Thorn in the moment where she intended on removing his cock by force. 

She wasted no time as she continued to cleave and hack at his limp and bleeding cock, reveling in his drawn out cries of pain and torment. She moved with precision, as she had learned to do when her shout manipulated the flow of time. She could hear the tear and rip of his skin as she twisted his cock from his body. She dropped it against the bed, quickly moving to the soft bag between his legs. She pinched it ruthlessly, bringing it up as high as she could before running the tip of the blade across the taut skin. She watched as the objects which contained his seed spilled from the fleshy sac in a royal flush of blood and sinew that stained the furs beneath them. She circled the blade around once more, completely removing the bloodied strands from between his legs. They rolled slowly against the bloodsoaked furs. Time resumed its normal pace just as Avalon had retracted the blade from Thorn’s bleeding groin. She felt dizzy from the rush of magic which had flooded her system. She wasn’t used to the strain it put upon her and she was still contending with the effects of her Skooma addiction.

“You whore!” Thorn cried, wailing and making guttural sobs as he stared down at the scarlet mess between his legs. “Look what you’ve done! You dirty, lying whore! I’ll kill you!”

Avalon grabbed his jaw, holding his head firmly in place as she held the blade of the dagger to his eye.

“No, you won’t,” she growled, gouging the dagger into the blue depths of his tear filled eye. Thorn screamed in anguish, flinging his head back and forth within her grasp while his arms thrashed futilely against his bindings.

“I owe you this pain hundreds of times over,” Avalon breathed venomously. “I want you to suffer like no man has suffered before!”

She could already hear Thorn’s men shouting from beyond the door, questioning the blood curdling screams they’d heard. It would only take them a moment to realize the screams they heard were coming from Thorn’s chambers.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have that kind of time.” She gazed at his chest. “But there is time for this.”

She drug the blade of the dagger across Thorn’s chest, carving the symbol of disgrace deep into his flesh. Thorn cried out and screamed as she cut into his skin, digging the blade in deeper and deeper as he twisted and writhed against the bed.

She leaned back and spat in his face. “I am  _ not _ you whore!”

Thorn gaped at her, his remaining eye pleading with her. “Please! Grant mercy upon me!”

“As much as you granted me?” Avalon sneered. 

The bandits were now at the door, shouting for Thorn. He screamed for them and Avalon could hear them strike the heavy wood, rattling the lock. 

Avalon lowered herself from the bed and strode over to Thorn’s bookcase. There he kept several bottles of Skooma, ale, poisons and soul gems. She picked up a gem, stroking it lightly with her tingling fingers.

“What’re you doing?” Thorn gasped, weakly pulling at his restraints.

“You’re going to bleed to death very soon,” Avalon replied stoically. “But not before your men breach the door.” She lowered the gem, her eyes locked on his bloodied visage. “I am going to rip the soul from your body and entrap it within this gem. Once I have your soul, everything you were will vanish.”

Thorn’s chest rose with rapid breaths. “Please, almighty Shor, don’t deny me Sovngarde!”

“You were never worthy of Sovngarde,” Avalon growled.

“Wait!” Thorn cried desperately peering at her with his good eye. “I meant it when I said I loved you.”

Avalon stared at him, noting that the furs beneath his body were now completely stained crimson.

“I know,” she whispered unemotionally as she settled back on the bed next to him. He gazed up at her hopefully. Avalon’s mouth settled into a tight line. 

“RII VAAZ ZOL!” She shouted. An ethereal light surrounded them and Thorn’s mouth dropped open as a strangled gag escaped his throat. Avalon watched as his spirit was forcefully torn from his body. It struggled against the magic which commanded it, striving to stay rooted within its physical form, but it could not hold out. Avalon saw Thorn’s intact eye roll up until she could see only the white of it. His cheeks caved in while the healthy hue of his flesh disappeared, giving him the appearance of a Draugr. A final scream of despair welled past his withering lips as his spirit fled from his body and filled the soul gem.

Avalon collapsed against the bed, her vision blurring as the force of the magic flooded through her. She clutched Thorn’s dagger, forcing herself to sit up so she could free her withered thrall from its binds. Thorn remained on the bed after being released. He waited for Avalon to command him, his blind eye fixated on something which did not exist. 

“Kill them,” Avalon breathed weakly, offering the dagger to Thorn.

Thorn grabbed the blade, standing from the bed and striding to the door just as the bandits splintered through a panel of the wood with an axe. One of them stuck his head through the hole. His eyes registered with surprise as he saw Thorn’s bloody form. 

“Thorn, what’s happened to y--” The bandit gurgled on his own blood as the Thorn thrall imbedded the blade deep into his throat. Thorn shoved him through the hole, grabbing the splintered planks of wood and casting them aside. He stepped through the gaping maw of the door. His men gawked at him. .

“What’s she done to you?” One asked before Thorn plunged the dagger into his belly. Another bandit launched an arrow at Thorn, striking him in the heart. Thorn was unphased, continuing to lurch after his men like a Daedra intent on destroying everything in its path.

“She’s killed him!” One of the bandits screamed. “She controls his corpse!”

There was a scuffling sound and Avalon endeavored to stand just as a bandit rushed into the room at her.

“Yol Toor Shol!” She shouted as she collapsed to her knees. A cloud of fire enveloped the man and he screamed as a fire Wyrm appeared, gnawing at him viciously and searing his flesh. The man died quickly and the Wyrm flew from the room in search of new prey to quench its insatiable hunger. 

Avalon struggled to her feet, severely weakened by the shouts. She managed to leave the room, noting the number of dead bodies strewn throughout the lair. As she stumbled through the corridors, she came upon a pile of smoldering ashes. 

“And this is all that remains of the once great and mighty Thorn,” she whispered mockingly.

A sudden and debilitating pain radiated through her shoulder as an arrow struck her. She fell to the ground, endeavoring to crawl away in a desperate attempt to find cover.

“There’s nowhere to go!” A bandit called out from a cell. “You’re done for, whore.” He placed another arrow to the string. 

A flash of fur and teeth darted in front of Avalon’s eyes and the man screamed as Karnwyr hit him with a powerful force. The man fell to the ground and the wolf sank his teeth into the man’s neck, ripping his throat out. The bandit sputtered and gurgled, drowning in his own blood and twitching with the last lingering remnants of his pathetic life. 

Avalon grasped for the arrow lodged in her shoulder blade, crying out in pain as she dislodged the projectile from her muscle. Karnwyr raised his bloodied snout to Avalon when he heard her cry.

“Karnwyr!” She whimpered, reaching out a bloodied hand to the wolf. He trotted to her quickly, licking the tears from her face as she wept against him. Her tingling fingers gripped at his fur as she buried her face into him, noticing just how thin he had become living off the scraps he had pilfered while he was hiding.

“Thank you,” she sobbed against him. “Thank you for never leaving me.”

The wolf whined plaintively against her injured shoulder which throbbed horribly.

“It’s just us now,” Avalon shuddered deliriously. “We’re safe.”

The wolf groaned in reply and Avalon shifted her face against his fur.

“I need healing,” she whispered weakly. “Take me to Falkreath.”

Karnwyr keened at her request, pushing under her arm with his head and encouraging her to stand. She leaned against him, grateful for the support. The wolf led her through the cavern and into the fresh air. Though Avalon had hoped to see the sun, she was still overjoyed to be greeted by the moon. It shone brightly in the sky, lighting their path down the mountain as they made their way to the small village. 


	4. Chapter 4

Avalon moaned uncomfortably in her feverish state. She could hear the muffled sounds of boots on the floor and hushed voices. A cool cloth pressed against her forehead, temporarily relieving the sickness which clung to her body.

She had not made it far before she collapsed on the roadside. Karnwyr had done his best to urge her to move, but she was too weak from her Skooma addiction and had lost too much blood. Luckily, Karnwyr had somehow managed to attract a patrolling guardsmen who recognized her as Thane and carried her to Falkreath and to the Jarl’s longhouse.

Jarl Siddgeir, who had been terse at being awakened from his slumber, instructed his healers to take charge of Avalon. He further advised his steward, Nenya, to arrange for Avalon to be taken to her home at Lakeview Manor in the morning so that she could recover there. Siddgeir made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want the Dragonborn to remain in his home for any length of time. Regardless of her title as Thane and her standing as Dragonborn, Siddgeir despised the thought of how much her presence would interrupt his torpid lifestyle.

During this time, Avalon had drifted in and out of consciousness. She would open her eyes for a moment to see a trio of healers standing over her, either rubbing her sore and aching muscles with soothing salves or gently coaxing her to drink warm broth. However, most of her time was spent sleeping, as she had slept so little while in Thorn’s presence. Unfortunately, sleep didn’t promise the reprieve from her ordeal as she had hoped. Nightmares plagued her mind and she would find herself at Thorn’s mercy once again. Avalon would scream in her sleep and whimper only to be soothed by the sound of a familiar voice which beckoned her to open her eyes and wake up. The voice sounded like Bishop, but each time Avalon found the strength to obey his commands and open her eyes, he was not there. His spirit seemed to haunt her and comfort her at the same time. 

“Ladyship,” Bishop’s voice whispered.

Avalon moaned softly. His voice was becoming more vivid and tangible. She wondered if she were losing what little remained of her sanity. Though she had fiercely clung to it, Thorn had finally managed to take that from her, too.

The warmed cloth disappeared from her brow only to return a moment later, cold and refreshing. Avalon sighed under the gentle, familiar caress. The cloth moved from her face and neck, dabbing gently against her chest. An image of Thorn drifted into her mind as she likened the touch to his when he had bathed her. Avalon’s heart thundered against her ribcage and her tranquil state of mind shattered. Her eyes suddenly flew open and she grabbed the hand which held the cloth. 

“Don’t touch me!” She screamed, propelling herself up against the bedframe and gripping the outstretched wrist tightly.

Bishop’s eyes widened in surprise and his mouth parted in wonderment as he gazed at the frenzied Dragonborn. Avalon’s chest rose and fell with rapid pants as she blinked several times.

“Bishop?” She gaped in disbelief.

“It’s alright, it’s me,” Bishop soothed, dropping the cloth and slowly extending his fingers to her face as Avalon clung to his wrist. She flinched from his touch and saw the pain of her rejection flicker through his amber eyes.

“You’re dead,” she whispered.

Bishop shook his head. “No, I’m not, Ladyship. I sit before you, broken and bruised, but very much alive. Just like you.”

Avalon swallowed hard, taking in Bishop’s form. She noted the scruff on his face which indicated that it had been a long while since he’d been kept. An angry gash was raised above his left eye which left it swollen, but still open. A dark bruise encompassed his jaw and neck on his right side. His bottom lip had been split and the skin around it looked painful and taut. She noticed that his other arm hung in a cloth sling across his chest. 

Avalon’s breathing slowed and she released Bishop’s wrist. She realized that she had regained most of the feeling in her fingers and was grateful to the healers. She reached out a trembling hand to Bishop’s face, her fingertips gently caressing the hot swell of his skin. Bishop groaned in discomfort, but instead of pulling away, he pressed his head into the cup of her hand.

“Please forgive me,” he shuddered, his hand caressing hers to his face while his lips kissed her palm. “I never meant to place you in any danger.”

An uneven breath passed over Avalon’s lips before she collapsed against Bishop, her hands squeezing his shoulders and back in an attempt to make sure he was in fact real. Bishop winced under her grasp, but embraced the pain. It had been far too long since he’d held her.

“What happened to you?” Avalon asked hoarsely, refusing to relinquish her hold on the battered Ranger. “I thought you were dead.”

“I very nearly was,” Bishop mumbled, his lips brushing against her ear. Avalon reluctantly dropped her arms, situating herself on the bed and gazing at Bishop. He averted his eyes as he spoke.

“Ladyship, I’m not proud of what happened,” Bishop mumbled. “The horrors you faced, what Thorn did to you…” Bishop’s jaw clenched tightly and Avalon could see the fury Bishop strove to contain ripple through him. “I can see your torment. It was etched on your face as you dreamt. Everything he did to you was my fault, my doing. I swore to protect you, but in the end, I failed.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Avalon insisted. “There was nothing you could do.”

Bishop shifted uncomfortably, still unwilling to raise his eyes to her. “Thorn struck a deal with me. He said he would let me go if I left you to him. He promised that he would be the only one to touch you. I… I had no choice.”

Avalon flinched at the confession, her sickness and fatigue suddenly returning. “You didn’t… you left me there?”

“I--I had no choice!” Bishop expounded. “He was going to let them all take you as they pleased and keep me bound in a cell. I knew that if I could escape, I could come back and save you.”

Avalon shook her head. “He told me that you abandoned me to him.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Bishop contested. “I knew he never planned on letting me go. He wanted to torture me, break me down. That’s his way, but I also knew he wanted you all to himself. I hoped I’d bought myself time to save you.”

Avalon nodded, struggling to understand Bishop’s position. “What happened?”

“He starved me and had me beaten,” Bishop explained. “His men forced me from my cell one night and threw me in the back of a wagon with a pile of rotting corpses. I figured they planned on disposing of me along with the others. During the journey, the one called Samil took ill courtesy of the Hagraven poison you fed to the Dunmer girl.”

Avalon gave him an inquisitive look and Bishop shook his head dismissively. “When he opened the wagon, I attacked. We were both weak and I was wounded in the brawl, but I managed to overpower him and kill him. Once I removed my shackles, it took me awhile to get my bearings. I realized I was close to Solitude and struggled to make my way there.” Bishop scratched at the scruff on his neck, grimacing as his fingers dug into his bruised skin. “They refused to see me at the Blue Palace even though I told them who I was. I had to resort to other measures to ensure your rescue.”

“What measures?” Avalon asked.

Bishop’s face contorted with a sour expression. “I was forced to request assistance from Cassavir.”

“You must’ve been desperate,” Avalon replied glibly.

Bishop’s amber eyes flickered to hers. “My pride is nothing compared to your wellbeing, Ladyship. My only thought was of you.”

Avalon nodded sadly. “You were mine, too.”

Bishop sighed audibly. “Cassavir was able to speak with Elisif. She sent out a small army to retrieve you.” Bishop mouth turned with a wry smile. “Imagine their surprise when they discovered Thorn and his bandits slaughtered and you escaped.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” Avalon whispered, reliving the dreadful memory. “Karnwyr remained hidden in the cavern, waiting for me.”

Bishop chuckled. “Damn wolf likes you more than he does me.”

“I smell better,” Avalon teased, feeling a small part of herself which had been buried away and forgotten revive.

“I’m not sure about that,” Bishop scoffed. “You smell like an apothecary right now. You’re more salves and herbs than you are flesh at the moment.”

“But I am mending,” Avalon pointed out. “At least physically.”

“That you are,” Bishop breathed. “And the rest will come. I’ll be here by your side to make sure that happens.”

“And what of you?” Avalon asked, gesturing to his battered form. “Why haven’t you taken any healing?”

“I’m fine,” Bishop quipped defensively. “I’m not taking any of the healers away from you. You’re the one who matters, not me.”

“That’s not true,” Avalon contested. “You matter to me.”

“That’s all I need to hear,” Bishop mumbled, leaning forward in his chair. His lips danced against hers and Avalon felt herself shy away.

Bishop’s brow creased and she could see the guilt and regret which burdened his mind.

“Sorry,” she murmured abashedly.

Bishop shook his head. “Don’t be. I can’t claim to know what happened to you and honestly it makes my blood boil just thinking about the part I saw. I can’t take away your pain even though I wish I could. I would bear it for you a hundred times over just so you could breathe easier.”

Avalon closed her eyes, endeavoring to scourge the marks Thorn had left on her from her soul. She knew her recovery would be a long, arduous road, but she was willing to take the first step knowing Bishop would be a constant support at her side.

Avalon leaned forward, catching his mouth with hers and kissing him gently. His swollen lip was hot against her skin, but he accepted her mouth willingly. As the kiss ended, Bishop smiled at her.

“I do have one question, Ladyship,” Bishop began. “If you’re willing to answer it.”

“I’ll try,” Avalon replied.

“The guards said they found some unsettling things in a bedroom,” Bishop continued. “Pieces of a man upon a bloodied bed. I have to ask, did you geld Thorn?”

A small smirk tugged at the edge of Avalon’s mouth. “Consider that a warning to never cross me.”

Bishop grinned, obviously proud of her vengeful act. “And people say I’m the dangerous one.” The amusement fled from his eyes and he became sullen. “Still, I can’t imagine the horror I left you to. I can’t forgive myself for what’s been done. These scars on your soul are my doing. In the end, I’ve proven myself to be nothing more than the savage beast others have accused me of being.”

Avalon raised her fingers to his unbruised cheek. “The thought of you was the only thing that kept me going. Even when I feared you were dead, I still fought to escape because of you. You were the only thing I could think of. The only reason I kept my sanity. You have no idea what you mean to me.”

Bishop’s eyes searched hers. “I think I’m starting to. Look what you’ve done to me. Who would’ve ever thought a man like me would fall in love with a woman as wonderful as you.”

Avalon’s lips parted in wonderment. “What… what did you say?”

Bishop chuckled. “I said I love you, you silly woman. And I’ll say it again as many times as you need to hear it. I love you. Now, get some rest. You’re going to need your strength for the journey to the Blue Palace. Elisif has decreed that you are to remain there until you’ve made a full recovery.”

“Karnwyr, too?” Avalon asked.

“Yes, him, too,” Bishop said. “He’s in need of a few good meals. You both are.”

“And does that invitation extend to you?” Avalon asked hopefully.

“I guess that depends on you,” Bishop replied. “Do you want me there?”

“I never want you to leave my side again,” Avalon whispered ardently.

“Then you have my word,” Bishop promised.

Avalon settled against the bed, suddenly fatigued by the interaction. “Will you be here when I wake up?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bishop whispered, his fingers dancing lovingly across her forehead.

“Good,” Avalon breathed as her eyes slowly fell closed. Bishop continued to stroke her forehead until her breathing deepened. Her face remained peaceful and at ease as she slept. It was the first time since she’d left Thorn’s lair that she didn’t dream.


End file.
